


TO FEEL ALIVE - MCCREE x BLACKWATCH OC

by Joseikage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26256661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joseikage/pseuds/Joseikage
Summary: As a young man, Jesse McCree joins Blackwatch rather than go to jail for his transgressions in the Deadlock Rebels. Taken underwing by Commander Gabriel Reyes, McCree works hard to right the wrongs he'd done. When a botched mission puts him in danger, he calls upon the aid of the mysterious "Fixer-Upper," a legendary agent that was said to be able to get people out of the stickiest of situations. The Fixer saves him, but when McCree tries to learn more about them, he is pushed away. Moreover, he begins to realize that there were unimaginable things going on at Blackwatch. Years after the fall of Overwatch and Blackwatch, a chance encounter brings the two of them together again, and even though the Fixer is stone cold, McCree is determined to melt the ice.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	1. FRIENDS - PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo all! This is chapter one of another spin-off I'm doing! ^_^ I have the other one which is a McHanzo but this one is a McCree x OC story. Hope you enjoy it! I know some of you are probs waiting for other stories to be continued, but please have patience. I'm just writing kinda what comes to me. There are a lot of stories I've got going on, so I'm jumping back and forth between 'em. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime though! :) 
> 
> As always, Blizzard owns Overwatch, but I own this story! Stay safe out there and enjoy! ^_^

McCree panted heavily as he ran down the long hallway in an enemy base. He had been sent on a stealth-mission by Reyes for some godforsaken reason, and the cowboy cursed him under his breath as he dodged bullets down the long hallway. He somersaulted to get a bit further and avoid the bullets that the angry armed guards were dishing out at him now.

"Why couldn't he have sent the damned ninja?!" he muttered bitterly as he raced around the corner and opened the first door he saw, hoping to find some cover.

Instead, the cowboy's jaw dropped open as he was met by the sound of laughter and loud talking as guards played a game of poker in what appeared to be the break room. They all stopped playing and turned to look in his direction; an awkward silence falling over the room as they noticed the darkly-dressed man sporting a ten gallon hat.

"You've gotta be shittin' me..." McCree murmured as the guards scrambled for their guns. He quickly slammed the door shut and kept running just as the original ones who were after him peeled around the corner.

 _Why the fuck did I join Blackwatch, anyways! Nothin' but trouble! Damn Gabe sendin' me out on stealth missions!_ he griped internally as he took a chance and dove into the next room over.

It was a very small workplace changing room of sorts that was unoccupied, and had a few large, metal lockers. He quickly grabbed one of the lockers and yanked it down against the door, pulling the nearby bench over to fortify the barricade.

_Shit... I'm in a real mess. I need to find a way outta here._

He quickly began searching for windows or even weaknesses in the walls as bangs and yelling filled the air. The guards were hammering at the door, frantically trying to bust it open. As much as McCree searched, he knew there was no way out of this. 

He sighed heavily and slumped against a nearby wall, lighting up a baby cigar and taking a big drag of it to drown out the sound around him. Then, he remembered his comm device.

 _Maybe I should call for... nah... they can't be that good, can they?_ he pondered. Then, he shrugged. _Guess it's worth a shot. I'm a dead man anyways..._

"This is Agent McCree. I got myself in a bit of a pickle and need the Fixer-Upper," he admitted, taking another drag of his cigar.

"Right away, Agent McCree," a metallic voice answered him over the walkie talkie, "on my way."

_What the hell is that? That couldn't be the Fixer could it? Why the hell do they sound like that? They an Omnic or somethin'?_

As he wondered what and who the Fixer-Upper could be, the metal locker skidded slightly along the floor; the guards making progress as they kept trying to force the door open. The locker slid further and further from the door, and just as McCree took the last puff of his cigar and stamped it out, the first guard burst into the room, drawing his gun as he yelled like a madman at the cowboy. Behind him, the other guards were looking around in a panic.

McCree stared around him in shock at the event, unable to believe his eyes as a figure that seemed to be faster than the speed of light whizzed across the doorway, slashing the throats of each of the ten or so guards in turn until they were all crumpled on the floor, bleeding out soundlessly.

"-so you will come with me right now, or die!" was all that Jesse McCree heard out of the guard who was still standing in front of him.

A dark chuckle escaped the gunslinger's throat as his eyes met those of the guard's and narrowed.

"You 'n what army?" he asked slyly.

The guard turned around in shock at the sloppy scene before him and he went to raise his hand to his walkie-talkie when it was sliced off cleanly by a very sharp sword. Then, his head was lobbed off.

McCree stared in awe at the dark, foreboding figure in front of him. It was a person dressed in a dark grey bodysuit of sorts that sported a tattered, hooded black cloak.

They wore a pair of black, wrapped boots and black gloves, and in their hand, they wielded an incredibly sharp Scimitar. When the figure stood up, he could see a metallic plague doctor's mask over their face.

"Are you... the Fixer-Upper?" 

The figure cocked their head to the side and answered in a deep, metallic voice, "That is what Blackwatch calls me, yes. Now, we need to leave before more guards arrive."

The Fixer grabbed McCree's hand and raced through the halls with him, running around corners and pushing him into the shadows to evade the guards as they came round the corner. Finally, they made it out and escaped in a Blackwatch chopper.

McCree let out a sigh of relief and leaned back in his seat as the doors closed. He eyed the Fixer warily and then grinned.

"You know, when we get back, maybe you could join me and the guys for dinner? Me, Genji, and Reyes usually go out for an after-mission meal," McCree declared.

"Did you succeed in your mission?" the Fixer demanded, sitting down across from the cowboy.

"Don't see what that has to do with my offer to get a bite to eat."

"If you did not complete your mission, Commander Reyes will most likely not take you out for dinner," the Fixer pointed out.

McCree sighed, pulled a small USB out of a pocket on his body suit, and grinned widely. 

"I may have gotten myself into a spot o' trouble, but I don't fail my missions. Anyways though, as thanks for bailin' me out, join us for dinner tonight. Your drinks and food are on me! Come on. Whaddya say?"

The Fixer smiled slightly behind their mask at McCree's offer. It had been a long time since anyone had wanted their company, and the cowboy didn't seem afraid of them in the slightest, unlike most other agents. They were going to accept when they remembered the words of their mentor.

 _"You don't deserve to be happy. Not after everything you've done. You wanna make amends for all the pain you've caused in this world? Then get to work!"_ he had snarled at them from day one in Blackwatch.

The Fixer clenched their hands into fists and the smile behind their mask turned into a tight frown as the words cut deep.

"No thank you, but I appreciate the offer."

"Oh come on! What's a little dinner? Just wanna get to know ya is all," McCree pressed.

"My answer is no. There are reasons why I stay apart from all of you, as well as why I shall continue to do so."

The Fixer rose from their seat and walked to one that was further away from McCree before getting comfortable for the rest of the ride back.

McCree stared at them curiously before scoffing lightly.

"Don't pretend to be so edgy, Fixer. We've all done bad shit that we have to make up for. Everyone in Blackwatch, apart from Reyes, is here because we fucked up. I was an outlaw, Genji was an assassin, and Moira was... well... still _is_ a mad scientist... Point is, that you don't have to go through this alone. I've told Genji that same thing many times. And I know that Reyes ain't the cuddly sort, but he'd tell you the same thing I am if you asked him about it."

The Fixer bowed their head low, their mouth gaping in shock behind their mask. They knew Reyes even better than Agent Jesse McCree, but even so, the cowboy spoke with such conviction that it had begun to sway the Fixer's heart.

"You're wrong," the Fixer growled, turning around and facing away from McCree.

Even though they shut McCree down, they weren't so sure anymore about their feelings.

 _Maybe... I do deserve to belong somewhere... Surely it won't hurt to simply ask Commander Reyes to join them? Or even to just stick around for dinner._ they thought to their self.

McCree stared at the Fixer's back in annoyance at their pointed words.

_What'd they mean by that? 'You're wrong?' Wrong about Reyes, or that they'd find a place to belong?_

Reyes had been like a father to McCree; the only father figure he really had in his life. As shitty as McCree had been to everyone when he first came to Overwatch, Reyes always stuck by him and set him straight.

He would level with the rugged gunslinger and be up front with him. McCree always confided in Reyes, and he liked to think that Reyes confided in him too. As the plane landed, McCree looked forward to talking with his mentor about the Fixer and inviting them to dinner.

He wanted to see what was under the mask and get to know who they were. A part of him was even disturbed by them. 

_To kill that many people so ruthlessly like that and just walk away like nothin' happened... they've gotta be one tough son of a bitch, or even somethin' mighty worse._ he realised, eyeing the Fixer warily as they left the plane and stood in front of Commander Gabriel Reyes of Blackwatch.

"What the hell happened out there, McCree?" he demanded in a gruff tone of voice, crossing his arms.

He was wearing his usual black body suit with his twin shotguns fixed to the sides of his hips. His brown eyebrows were furrowed and his short, wavy hair was hidden by the black beanie on his head.

"What _happened_ is that you gave a stealth mission to the least stealthy member of this goddamn ragtag group o' misfits!" McCree bit back, his sandy-brown hair waving beneath his hat as he spoke.

"Watch your tone with me, _Agent._ Anyways what matters is that you completed the mission, right?"

McCree scoffed and pulled out the USB, placing it into Reyes' open palm. Reyes eyed the USB curiously for a few moments before grinning wildly at the young gunslinger.

"Great work, McCree," he said before turning towards the Fixer with a neutral expression. "And you too. Good work out there getting this one home."

Reyes turned around and began to walk away. McCree and the Fixer looked over at each other and the Fixer knew they had to at least ask. It had been a long time since they shared a hot meal with anyone and the loneliness was almost unbearable.

"Commander Reyes," they began, "I wanted to ask if I could—"

"Fixer," Reyes interrupted, stopping in his tracks, "I'm in a hurry. Come to my office. We can discuss this there."

The Fixer gaped at him from behind their mask, their lip quivering as they recognized the tone in his voice. They had fucked up by trying to speak with him and would most likely be punished. They followed reluctantly after the Commander, their head drooping slightly as they trudged along.

McCree stared after them in confusion. All the while the Fixer had been with him, they had been confident and direct, but now, in the presence of the Commander, they were like a scared puppy. Something wasn't right, though McCree couldn't understand what it might be. Even so, it piqued his curiosity greatly, and he pulled out a baby cigar, lit it up and took a draw of it as he waited several paces and then followed after them.

The Fixer and Commander Reyes arrived at his office, where the Commander beckoned them in and closed the door behind them, locking it quickly.

"What do you want?" he demanded, crossing his arms.

"Well, sir. Agent McCree in—" the Fixer began.

"Take off the damn mask when you speak to me," Reyes growled impatiently.

The Fixer's lip quivered behind their mask once more before they steeled their face and quickly removed the mask, placing it in their lap. Their eyes gleamed with a golden colour that glowed ever so slightly, and they tried to be firm and maintain eye contact with Reyes, but as soon as they met his gaze, their eyes fluttered downwards to the dark wooden desk.

"Yes sir... Commander, Agent McCree invited me to dinner with you, him, and Genji tonight, and I was wondering if I may join you all," the Fixer continued, the deep, rich, mechanical tones now gone from their voice.

A tense silence fell over the room, broken finally by Gabriel Reyes' impatient sigh.

"Why would you waste my time on this bullshit? You already know my answer. What is it?" the Commander spat.

"'No' is the answer, sir," they murmured.

"Why?" Commander Reyes pressed.

"Because I am paying for my sins. Because I will always be paying for my sins."

"That," Reyes growled, slapping the Fixer across the face, "and you don't deserve to feel any sort of belonging. You will never belong here. You are here because you _must_ be, not because you were _invited_ to be. There's no hope for you to be forgiven; only for you to fix what you've done. Remember that."

The area where the Commander had struck the fixer's face reddened and then quickly returned to normal; the skin bruising and then healing almost instantly. The only pain the Fixer felt from this was emotional. Physically, they felt nothing.

"Now get out of here. Go see Moira for a checkup before you retire for the night, and as always, your food will be brought to you," the Commander ordered.

"Y-yes, sir," the Fixer said in a low, hoarse voice before they put the mask back on their head and walked out the door, closing it behind them. They let out a low moan of sadness and then sighed deeply, taking a deep breath to control their emotions before walking towards Moira O'Deorain's lab.

The Fixer reflected on what happened in the Commander's office.

 _My skin is getting even stronger, and so am I. I couldn't even feel his hand against my face... Couldn't feel the pain. What else can I not feel?_ they pondered as they wondered if they would one day even lose their internal feelings like love, hope, faith, and fear. 

_Can I even feel pleasure or warmth anymore? What has Moira made me into?_

"I take it you did somethin' to piss the commander off by that sound you just made," McCree's voice carried to the Fixer from their left side and they quickly turned to see him leaned up against the wall in a slick pose; his back supporting him while he had his arms and legs crossed. "I take it you weren't supposed to kill those guards?"

"Hmph. Seems like you could have performed that stealth mission just fine judging by the way you were able to sneak up on me. And no, I was in the right to kill them. I have never known the Commander to be any other way towards me," the Fixer declared. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh, by all means," McCree drawled, extending his hand to allow the Fixer to pass him. 

The Fixer nodded once and kept walking towards Moira's lab, only to hear the sound of cowboy boots tapping the floor behind them. They growled in frustration and turned around to see McCree trailing behind them. They rounded on him, crossing their arms and trying to look as intimidating as possible, but the cowboy was unfazed.

"Look, I ain't stoppin' ya from goin' wherever it is you're goin', but I am comin' with ya. You seem to need a friend right now."

"A friend...?" the Fixer pondered, thinking back to what the Commander told them in his office.

"Yeah, a friend. I mean, we might not see each other much since we're in different divisions, but I'll still come visit ya and such. I'd like to get to know ya. Plus, I owe ya a drink for savin' my life," the cowboy declared, smiling at them.

The Fixer stared at the cowboy's warm smile and was taken aback by his honest expression. Even so, the thought of the Commander finding out, filled them with fear.

"I don't deserve a friend like you," they said.

"Well, that's too bad because you've got one," McCree bit back stubbornly.

The Fixer suddenly thrust McCree up against the side of the wall, drawing their sword and placing it against his throat. To their surprise, the Cowboy had a look of defiance plastered across his face, rather than one of fear.

"What're you gonna do? Kill me?" he pressed, grinning wildly at the Fixer with a fire in his eyes. 

Even though McCree didn't know this Fixer person, he gambled that they really didn't like killing when they didn't have to. The gamble paid off as the Fixer slowly released him, sheathed their sword, and began to walk away.

"You must have a death wish," they snarled.

The Fixer glanced once more in the direction of Moira's lab before heading instead towards their room. They knew that with McCree tagging along, they wouldn't be able to get an exam done, as that required them to take off their mask and bodysuit. One of the Commander's explicit instructions to them from day one was that they keep their identity a secret. 

The Fixer opened the communication device on their wrist and typed a quick message to Moira about seeing her in the morning for a check-up before closing it and walking quickly to their room, hoping Commander Reyes wouldn't see the stubborn cowboy following them like a lost puppy.

McCree stared around him in shock as he realized they were heading towards the maintenance sector of the base. It was a dark, shabby area with very little to offer in the way of entertainment, comfort, or even peace as harsh metallic clanging and construction noises could be heard throughout. He covered his ears as they trudged past a sort of mech that was being repaired.

A few minutes later, they arrived. The Fixer unlocked their room and they walked inside.

The cowboy let out a low whistle at the state of the room. It almost looked like a cage with its four slightly rusted metal walls, and the bed was small and appeared to be rather uncomfortable. There were no decorations anywhere in the room, and the bathroom was in the same area as where the Fixer slept.

The only furniture, other than the poor excuse for a bed, was a small, ragged sheet of metal that was supported by stacked concrete slabs.

McCree eyed it curiously and the Fixer finally let out an annoyed sigh and demanded, "Have you never seen a table before?"

"Not... one like this, no," he confessed.

_They actually live here? How can they? I don't know of anyone who could survive this for long?_

"Just... how long have you been working for Blackwatch?"

"A little over two years now," the Fixer answered him.

"And how long have you had this... storage closet as your bedroom?"

"Since I came to work for Blackwatch."

McCree gaped at the Fixer in shock.

 _No way... Reyes would never allow anyone to live like this. It's just not possible!_ he thought to himself, shaking his head.

"Why?" he accidentally blurted out.

"Because I deserve it," came the Fixer's pointed reply. "You don't know me at all. Not one bit. You spoke with me earlier about how everyone who came to Blackwatch has done terrible things in their past, but I've done far worse than any of you. I'm better off on my own."

"What... did you do?" McCree asked before he could stop himself.

The Fixer mask turned to face him, and from behind their mask, tears welled up in their golden eyes.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted them and the Fixer murmured a quick "hide" to McCree before walking over and answering it. A staff member handed the Fixer a large tray of food and the Fixer thanked them quietly, took it, and shut the door. They sat down at the table and went to remove their mask, when they remembered McCree, who was hiding behind the dark, poor-excuse for a shower curtain that the Fixer had put up when they first moved into the room.

"You need to leave now. I must eat, and I will not remove my mask in front of you or anyone else," they demanded.

"Alright, I'll respect that, Fixer," McCree said, tipping his hat with a sad smile as he trudged towards the door. "I'll see you soon, alright?"

"Perhaps," the Fixer replied softly, hoping that they would. "Thank you, McCree."

As the rugged gunslinger left the room, he glanced back one more time with a regretful look on his face.

 _One day, I'll rescue them from this damned room. What the hell was Reyes thinking? There's no way he would allow the Fixer or any other member of Blackwatch to live like this...!_

McCree marched over to Reyes' office and damn near knocked the door down barging in. Reyes looked up angrily from his phone call, but when he saw Jesse's determined scowl, he nodded.

"General, I'm going to have to call you back. Something urgent just came up. Shouldn't take long. ... Very well. Goodbye," he murmured.

As soon as he had hung up the phone, Jesse exclaimed, "Gabe what the hell?! The Fixer is living in a damn storage closet that's probably growin' mold by now! Why can't they be part of our division, huh? They saved my life!"

"They are dangerous, McCree, and despite what you think, they don't have emotions. They actually can't feel a thing. What they do is play on your weaknesses and tear you apart. That is why they are kept so far away. They are a valuable asset, but they are also a dangerous one. They are a deadly assassin who is able to sway things in terms of politics and emotions, but they are a Sociopath," Reyes explained with a sad frown on his face.

"Even now, they must have told you things that made you appalled at me. They're trying to tear you and I apart, Jesse, but it's not the truth."

McCree gaped at him in shock.

"Tell me, Jesse. Did they lure you into their room?"

"No, I followed after them because I wanted to know more about them. They actually told me not to, but I didn't listen. You know me."

"Well, don't follow them anymore. Got it?"

"Yeah... I got it," McCree answered back, his thoughts drowning out the rest of the conversation with Gabe as he talked about where they should eat.

The cowboy's hunger was lost on him, as he was still thinking about how the Fixer sounded when he was in their room. Even through the metallic voice, he could tell that they were lonely and thankful he had come.

 _Surely that couldn't be fake... could it?_ he wondered as he and Reyes left the room.


	2. FRIENDS - PART 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blizzard owns Overwatch, but I own this story! :) Hope you all enjoy it!

"Mission complete?" Commander Reyes demanded, raising an eyebrow at the Fixer-Upper, who nodded solemnly, their head bowed slightly.

Their clothes and mask were splattered with the blood of Reyes' enemies; people they didn't know, and felt extremely guilty about killing.

"Good, then go see Moira for your checkup," he ordered, waving the Fixer out the door.

The Fixer turned to leave and Reyes called them back again. They turned around expectantly, hoping for something more from the commander. Some sort of praise, a reward, or maybe even a night out somewhere to celebrate their numerous successful missions.

"Get cleaned up first before you see her. You're tracking blood," he groaned with disgust, glaring at them as he shook his head.

The Fixer let out a low sigh and exited the room in disappointment.

 _He's never treated me nicely before. Why should he do so now?_ they wondered as they trudged back to their room and immediately entered the shower.

They threw their mask off to the side and stripped down out of their rugged clothing, sighing as the water hit their muscular back. They waited for the heat to sear them, but it never came. Confused, the Fixer turned the water even hotter, and hotter still when they didn't feel any sort of change.

Their breath caught in their throat as they realised they had turned the water almost all the way hot.

_Am I losing my ability to feel pain at all?_

They quickly finished their shower and used the bathtub to do their laundry, throwing their outfit into the tub of soapy water to soak. Then, they got on a fresh pair of clothes, wiped their mask clean, and put it on before rushing towards Dr. O'Deorain's lab. After frantically expressing their concerns to the doctor, they sat still while she performed various tests on them.

Upon reaching a conclusion, Doctor Moira O'Deorain let out a hum of amusement and smiled, clasping her hands together in front of her face as she eyed the data on her computer monitor.

"Brilliant," she mused, "it would seem as though you are undergoing a sort of rapid mutation. You are evolving beyond what I set out to do with you. It's quite extraordinary."

"Yes, I agree," the Fixer reluctantly began, "but what about my sense of touch as a whole? Will it go away? And what about things like warmth or cold, or... pleasure?"

Moira eyed the Fixer curiously for a moment before narrowing her eyes at the creature before her.

"You sound a tad ungrateful," she barked, beginning to pace the room. "I made you great, you know. When you first came to me, Reyes didn't know what to do with you. He called you weak and useless, but look! Look at everything you have accomplished now! That is all because of me."

"I gave you heightened speed and agility, and adjusted your vision to be able to keep up with that speed. I increased your instincts and made you a force to be reckoned with. I gave your skin increased durability and even boosted your immune system to make you invulnerable to most illnesses. And lastly, I gave you one of the most incredible gifts: the ability to take or give _life_. Are you going to tell me that you're ungrateful?"

The Fixer bowed their head low and swallowed hard, fighting back tears.

"No... Thank you so much, Dr. O'Deorain," they murmured. "Are we finished with today's exam?"

"Yes. Be back in two days time."

The Fixer nodded slowly, hopped off the table, and put their mask back on, heading back to their room quickly. They walked briskly and avoided people as per usual, but they could still feel the nervous glances everyone gave them as they passed by. Finally, safe and sound in their room, they closed the door behind them and fell onto the bed, letting out a loud sigh as they pondered a manner of things.

A low, metallic groan escaped them and they reached up to tear off their mask angrily and throw it aside, but a shiver down their spine stopped them. Someone else was present in the room with them. Slowly, their hands returned to their side and pulled out a small knife, hidden in a pocket along their right thigh before they sprang up and rushed at the back right corner of the room near the shower.

McCree was taken aback. One moment, the Fixer had been on the bed, but the moment he blinked, they were onto him, a knife pressing against his throat.

"How the hell did you do that?" he asked in shock, completely impressed.

The Fixer glared at him in surprise from behind their mask, confused at the foolish cowboy's reaction to their blatant threat. Then, they pocketed their knife and placed their hands on their hips.

"What the hell are you doing here?" they demanded. They pressed the knife a bit harder into McCree's throat until a small trickle of blood dripped down and the man groaned lightly.

"Careful," he warned with a teasing grin, "wouldn't want Reyes to find out one of his top agents has been threatened, now would ya?"

The Fixer let out a low scoff and let McCree go, pocketing their knife before walking over to their bed and lying down.

"Get out," they commanded, letting out a deep and tired sigh.

"No," McCree defied them, shaking his head and putting his hands on his hips, "I told you before, didn't I? I wanna be your friend, Fixer."

The Fixer flew up to McCree, fists balled and grabbed him in a threatening manner, shoving him against the wall forcefully. Their hands closed into fists around his clothing and they gritted their teeth in annoyance.

_I can't kill him to get rid of him or else the Commander will know, and there's no other way I can rid myself of him...!_

"Why the hell do you want to be a friend to me? I could kill you right here, right now." 

"Because," McCree said, gently prying the Fixer's clenched hands from his clothing, "you won't. I can tell you ain't happy and that you don't like to kill people. Truth is, you need someone, and I wanna be that person. You're all alone here in this craphole that Reyes is convinced passes for a livable room, and you have no one. You need a friend, and it looks like I'm the only candidate."

The Fixer shook their head as the fear began to rise within them.

"You don't get it, do you?! If the commander finds out I was with you, he's going to-" the Fixer cut off as they realised that tarnishing the commander's name would also be bad, both for McCree and for themself, "-there will be consequences. 

"Then it's a good thing that what Reyes don't know won't hurt him none, now innit?" the bold cowboy declared, taking off his hat, holding it to his chest, and winking at the Fixer. The Fixer grinned behind their mask at the Cowboy's determination and stood there in thought.

"I've done things... terrible things," they began, holding up a hand at the cowboy, before he could protest, "and I know you told me before that there is penance for everyone here, but there is none for me..." 

The Fixer's golden eyes filled with tears behind their mask and they swallowed hard to keep their voice from cracking as they continued to speak, echoing the words of their mentor, the Commander.

"I'm a pathetic waste of space, and the only thing that I'm good for is killing."

"You're a good man, McCree, but someone like me doesn't deserve a friend like you. You need to leave. I'm poisonous, a danger to everyone I get close to. I appreciate the offer, but I'm better off alone." They walked over to the door and grasped the doorknob, motioning to it suggestively with their other hand for him to leave.

Jesse McCree was taken aback for a moment at the harsh manner in which they spoke about their self, but he took a deep breath, regained his bearings, and stood tall, scowling at the Fixer.

"That's enough!" he yelled, his voice booming through the tiny room, sounding like a lion's roar. As soon as he yelled at the Fixer, he became conflicted about what to do.

In the past, he would have said something along the lines of: "I didn't come here to hear your pansy-ass complaints, I came here to be a friend to you! And if you don't stop talkin' shit about yourself, I'll beat some positivity into ya," but having worked with Blackwatch for some time now, he learned that when dealing with people, a sweet demeanor would get him much further with them than a bitter attitude.

His mind went back to a mission they had been on. A small town had been overrun with Null Zero Omnics and a younger McCree had come across a group of children who were hiding out in the rubble of a house that was directly in the line of fire.

The gunslinger urged them to move, but they hadn't, and instead began to whimper and cry. He looked out at the battlefield and spotted a Detonator Omnic and two Nulltroopers coming their way.

"Get your asses up right now before they get blown up!" he had yelled at them, causing them to freeze in panic. Then, Commander Reyes came out of nowhere and placed a rough hand on the cowboy's shoulder, scowling at him.

"Jesus, McCree! They're just kids," he said before turning to the children that were huddled up on the dusty, scorched ground, "and as kids, you guys run fast; much faster than us adults, I'm sure because we're old and out of energy! And you definitely run much faster than those Omnics, right? So, we're going to play a little game. We are here but we need to get over there," he pointed to a small Overwatch safe zone that was at least two football fields away.

"You guys are going to lead the way for us, and we are going to be protecting you all the way there, but we have to move when I say so and don't stop until we get inside the safe zone. We can do this, alright?"

The five kids all nodded slowly and got to their feet.

"Ready? Go!" Reyes yelled, and the kids began running as fast as their little legs could take them, their tiny hearts pounding in their chest as they struggled with all their might to get to the safe zone. Behind them, one of the Nulltroopers began to fire, but Reyes and McCree were ready, and double-teamed it, the blasts from the twin shotguns and pistol discombobulating it and then shutting it down.

The other Nulltrooper turned their way and took point in front of the Detonator to protect it, beginning to move quickly towards them. Once more, the Cowboy and the Commander took it down.

"Damn Tin Cans..." the commander hissed under his breath as he reloaded both of his shot guns. The Detonator Omnic was the biggest problem now. An Omnic that appeared to be a giant, metal, balloon, it contained a massive amount of explosive energy to level a skyscraper.

That Overwatch safe zone had an active forcefield around it that would keep them safe from most things, but it could be damaged by several blasts from Detonators, and they needed the shield to last as long as possible. McCree turned to look at Reyes, who was already staring back at him, and the two of them gave each other a nod of understanding before they rushed at the Detonator. The Omnic hadn't reached its destination yet, so they could easily shut it down before it activated its self destruct sequence.

McCree went in first for the attack, throwing down a flashbang to stun the Omnic before pulling the trigger of his gun and fanning the hammer haphazardly. He rolled out of the way of it, reloading his gun at break-neck speed before firing at the Omnic some more. Reyes fired at it, pelting the Omnic with hard strikes as it continued to make its way towards the small safe haven.

They continued their attack, finally beginning to wear the Omnic's plating down, before Reyes let out a growl of frustration. As he reloaded his gun for what felt like the hundredth time, he realised that the clips he was currently using to reload his shotguns were his last. McCree stared at him in horror, realising what was happening.

"Keep going!" Reyes had shouted at him, continuing to blast the Omnic's hard shell. Finally, he saw it: a weakness in the plating where his final shot had struck true and sparks were flying. He could hear the hissing and groaning of the mechanisms inside, struggling to keep the Omnic going.

"Hey McCree," he yelled across the field, still backpedaling as he stood between the Omnic and the safe zone. He turned his head and noticed just how close the Detonator was: about half a football field away. Even so, he had faith in the cowboy he had brought into Overwatch.

"What time is it?!" he demanded, pointing up at the Omnic's weak spot. McCree gaped for a moment and then his eyes narrowed, his lips upturning in a cheeky grin as he sprinted forward past the Omnic and then Reyes.

He got ahead of them a ways before whipping around, drawing his pistol, digging his feet into the ground, and responding,

"It's high noon..."

McCree set his sights on the Omnic's weak point, taking only a few seconds to mark it in his mind's eye before he aimed his revolver at the large machine and fired six rapid shots straight into the same spot, causing more and more sparks to light the mechanical bomb up until it began to shake and then lose its ability to float, falling to the ground and going dark. McCree panted heavily with exertion, nodding his head and smiling proudly as he was glad that he had put his mentor, Ana's lessons to the test and passed with flying colours.

He whirled his revolver in his hand and shoved it back into its holster. Beside him, Reyes put a hand on his shoulder and grinned briefly before scrunching his eyebrows and sighing.

"Great job with the Omnics, but I need to talk to you about those kids..." he began.

"They weren't movin' and I didn't know what else the hell to do!" McCree had protested.

"So you yelled at them to scare them even more?" Reyes countered. The gunslinger fell silent, bowing his head guiltily. Reyes clicked his tongue chidingly and grabbed McCree's face, forcing his head over to look at the front of the safe zone, where all five children were celebrating and shouting praises about the 'neat cowboy dude from the Western movies.'

McCree attempted a grin through Reyes' fingers that smooshed his face and waved awkwardly at the kids, who gave him excited hugely exaggerated waves back.

"Don't worry, kid. They still think you're cool, but listen... I know you're not used to dealing with people, and hell, knowing your past, I get it, but Overwatch and Blackwatch require you to do your best to understand people. That's our goal, making the world a better place. Or something like that anyways," Reyes stopped for a moment and McCree wondered what he must have been thinking of as he stood there with a frown on his face.

Then, he snapped out of his thoughts and finished, "Just remember that a bit of patience goes a long way when dealing with Civilians, and actually with everyone in general. You give them your time and they'll most likely give you theirs. That's what I did with those kids today."

"Yeah, you were great with 'em... I sucked, so why do they like _me?"_ McCree demanded. Reyes chuckled and slapped him on the back as he walked off.

"They probably think you're John Wayne or something!"

McCree sighed and walked over to the kids, scratching his head in embarrassment at their praise. He told them how proud he was of them for being so brave and let them take turns wearing his hat.

 _That was a good lesson I learned that day..._ McCree thought as his mind brought him back to the present. He sighed deeply as he faced the Fixer now, knowing what he had to say.

"I killed my father, you know..." he admitted, causing the Fixer to gape behind their mask, their hand quivering slightly on the doorknob. "He was a rotten man who hurt my mother on many occasions and finally killed her. Even so, what I did that day, I didn't do for the sake of Justice; I did it for me. I did it for Revenge."

"His death led to me killin' many others too, only, it wasn't for Revenge. This time, it was for Greed or Envy even. Sometimes, it was even for lust. I ended up with the Deadlock Rebels doin' a ton o' dirty jobs I hadn't expected to do, but after killin' my old man and goin' on the run, doin' these jobs was nothin'. Rob a bank. Steal a car. Kill a man because a cute Rebel member told me to. Kill the bank manager and steal the money from the vault. I did it all without hesitation, and I grew cold and numb."

"By the time Reyes captured me, I was a sinful, shameless, backstabbin', cold-hearted son of a bitch... and the worst part was that I was only seventeen. Despite all that, Reyes invited me into his home and took care of me. It took awhile but I finally started coming around and realising all of the terrible things I'd done."

"Point is that Reyes is my friend. If I hadn't met him, I would have never climbed out of the hole I was in. I wanna be that same person for you, Fixer."

"If the Commander finds out that you're here, it won't be good for me," the Fixer protested in their metallic voice, gripping the doorknob even tighter.

"Is _this_ good for you right now?" McCree demanded, motioning around him at the tiny disgusting, scuffed room where she lived. The Fixer paused deep in thought, their hand trembling once more on the doorknob.

"Everyone deserves to live and be happy and almost everyone deserves a better chance. I think, or actually, I _know_ you are one of those people who deserve one."

The Fixer looked around the room sadly.

 _This... this isn't living, not really... Maybe the strange cowboy is right. Maybe it's worth risking everything to have a friend..._ they thought quietly, dropping their hand from the doorknob, walking over to McCree and sitting down at their crappy little table.

"Alright then, I accept your friendship and the risks involved," they said proudly.

"That's what I'm talkin' about, Fixer!"

The cowboy walked over and sat down across from them, beginning to make conversation when there was a knock at the door. The Fixer walked over to it and answered it to see someone holding up their tray of food for the night.

"Thank you," the Fixer murmured as they took the food and closed the door behind them before rejoining McCree at the small crappy table. They stared at him for a moment, contemplating things. 

_If I send him away to eat right now, then I am not sure when I will see him next since he is so busy... but if I skip my meal tonight and let him stay, I get more time with my friend._ they mused. 

"McCree, would you like my food? I fear that I'm not hungry tonight, but I'd like you to stay and spend time with me and I do not want for you to go hungry while we converse."

McCree smiled warmly, not about to refuse a decent meal, or decent conversation.

"I could eat," he called back, delicately taking the tray from the Fixer and setting it down in front of him, eating as they talked about their missions and things. The Fixer was adamant about not talking about their dark pasts, but it didn't mean they couldn't gossip about past missions.

Finally, the meal was over, conversation was waning, and a loud yawn erupted from the cowboy's mouth.

"Damn, I'm feelin' mighty tired... It's about time for me to head to bed," he declared, stretching and starting towards the door.

"You will be back though, won't you?" the Fixer asked him. "It was really nice talking with you, McCree."

"Likewise! And of course I'll be back! I'm not quite sure when yet, but I promise I'll come back and talk with ya some more, alright? Goodnight Friend."

"Goodnight... Friend."

The Fixer smiled for the first time in years as the word glided past their lips, and they felt more comfortable with it than they did their assassination work in Blackwatch.


	3. LACROIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blizzard owns Overwatch, but this story is my own creation! :D Hope you all enjoy it and as usual, stay safe and be well!

Months had passed and the Fixer-Upper and McCree got on well. He would try and visit the strange assassin any chance he could get, which ended up being once or twice every few weeks. When six months had passed, McCree informed the Fixer that he was going away on assignment and didn't know how long it would be until he returned. He was being sent to London to help with reconnaissance during the Omnic Uprising on King's Row.

The Fixer wished him luck and dreaded the days without him. Every visit with the kooky cowboy was like a ray of light piercing through a pitch-black room, and they eagerly awaited each meeting with their new friend.

 _Friend..._ they thought about the word that was still so new to them, and smiled behind their mask as they headed towards their next assignment. This one was a little bit different than the usual mission. Rather than killing anyone, the Fixer was now on protection detail for Gérard and Amélie Lacroix as they made their way from France to an Overwatch Base of Operations in Rome, Italy.

The Fixer welcomed the two of them on board the jet and saluted Gérard, who was one of the highest ranking officers of Overwatch.

"At ease," he said softly with a smile after returning the salute.

He and his wife found their seats and began to speak in soft, delicate tones to each other. They seemed happy, like newlyweds even though the intel stated they had been married for several years now. The Fixer smiled behind their mask and took a seat a little further back from them, but their smile quickly turned into a scowl as a flight attendant walked by them that they didn't recognise. 

Every single staff member down to the mechanics of the aircraft had background checks and were put into a mission file so that the Fixer could recognise each and every person who would possibly be making contact with Mr. and Mrs. Lacroix. This attendant's face was not in the dossier, but looking closely at his suit, the Fixer could see that he had stolen it from a person whose name they recognised. 

They waited for a few moments until the attendant approached the happy couple's seats with a tray of snacks. Then, with the speed of a cheetah, the attendant pulled out a knife and swung, but the Fixer was much faster. A cheetah could not outrun a bolt of lightning, and that is nearly how fast the Fixer was as they intercepted the would-be assassin's hand, wrenched the knife from it, and walked over to the emergency exit, opening the door and going to throw them out of it.

"Attendez-vous! I mean, wait! Please," Gérard cried out, standing up from his seat and staring after the Fixer with wide eyes. His wife looked terrified as her gaze bounced between her husband and the Fixer. "If that man is from Talon, we can use him to get information, non? I say we keep him alive and under lock and key."

The Fixer quickly closed the emergency door and knocked out the mysterious assassin before proceeding to empty his pockets, check for hidden items in his mouth, and tie him up. For added security, they also tied him to the chair and gagged him, checking on him every so often to undo the gag and let him breathe a little deeper before forcing it back on.

"You are an assassin, are you not?" Gérard inquired, propping his head up lazily with his arm as it rested on the seat just in front of him. The Fixer was silent for a few moments before they finally spoke up.

"Yes," they murmured reluctantly, feeling as if they were confessing to a great sin. Normally when people found out who the Fixer was and what they did, they met them with avoidance, but Gérard was different. He embraced them.

"Well, there is no need to kill anyone in the presence of me or my wife unless absolutely necessary. Unless... You do not take pleasure in killing, do you?"

"Of course not!" The Fixer gaped in shock behind their mask and gasped at their pointed words. "I apologise, I did not mean to snap at you and speak to you so disrespectfully..."

"Why not? I asked quite a pointed question, after all. Though I have to say that I am glad you take no enjoyment in killing. Come, have a drink with me and my wife, Amélie."

"Oh, but sir, I cannot **—** " the Fixer quickly objected, knowing they couldn't remove their mask under the orders of Commander Reyes.

"—yes you can, Fixer. You have my permission. Do not worry, I know much about you."

The Fixer hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking off their mask and regarding the two of them with a forced smile. Their face had not been seen by anyone, save Commander Reyes and Moira, in a little over two years. They blinked their golden, lightly-glowing eyes and shrunk back ever so slightly.

"Ah, there you are! Yes, Reyes has told me about how you volunteered to be part of a series of science experiments conducted by Moira based on the Soldier Enhancement Program. How is it going?" he inquired. Both he and his wife stared at the shy assassin curiously.

"I believe it to be going well. I was gifted greater strength, speed, stamina, skin durability, and sight than the average Human, and I have a heightened pain tolerance and lowered pain reception. I can sense when something is wrong, but I don't necessarily feel pain," the Fixer responded bluntly.

"And are you being treated well?" he asked. The Fixer froze in surprise at the question and he added, "I just mean that sometimes Moira can be a bit... overzealous in her research."

"I am indeed being treated well," the Fixer lied, thinking about how little the high-ranking officer really knew about them. He had been told pretty lies in order to mask the foul truths, in order to keep things up and running. The more time the Fixer spent with McCree, the more they had realised that Commander Reyes was just using them and tormenting them so they would bow to his will. They were a slave to his every request and even now, the Fixer dared not speak against it.

"Well, surely you can join us for wine?" his lovely wife inquired next to him, holding up a wine bottle and smiling warmly. Her face was lovely and smooth, her skin a light, creamy pale colour, and her hair was raven-black and done up in an elegant bun, highlighting her long, slender neck. Her eyes were a gorgeous golden colour, a rarity in the world as only about five per cent of the population had it.

"This is a bottle of 1945 Château Mouton Rothschild," she continued, opening it with finesse. "We bought it to celebrate my early retirement from Ballet now that I am married to the most wonderful man in the world."

Gérard chuckled and pulled his wife in for a kiss.

"Stop, my dear... you'll spoil me," he begged jokingly.

"You know I'd love to do much more than that to you now," she countered, grinning devilishly at him.

"Please, not in front of my associate here," he pleaded, stroking her chin and kissing her softly before turning back to the Fixer and handing them a glass. Amélie then poured the Fixer some of the exquisite drink and they all toasted.

"To the Fixer, who is a great bodyguard and surprisingly great company. Thank you for indulging us. It can't be easy to do your job and still maintain a social life," he ventured, raising the glass to his lips and taking a slow, steady sip.

The Fixer stared at the glass, cupping it in both hands as they gazed at their reflection in the red liquid, their golden glowing eyes an unnatural contrast to Amélie's inherent orbital beauty. Staring into their own eyes through the red liquid, they were haunted and tormented yet again by the monster they had become. 

_"Nah, you ain't a monster, Fixer. You're just lost, but you're a damn good person, you know..."_ McCree had said to them one night as they sat together. _"A bad person will deny their wrongdoin's and carry on without a second thought, but you? You recognise the shit you done and you want nothin' more than to make up for it and be better. I don't know what the hell you did, but you seem to be makin' up for it, all right."_

The Fixer smiled, tearing away from their thoughts and raised the glass.

"Actually, I have a good friend who keeps me grounded. This line of work isn't easy, but they help me see who I am and they're among the few people who do not see me as a monster, or as my profession. Cheers to good friends," the Fixer declared, taking two sips to make up for the toast they missed while they were lost in thought. 

"Pour les amis," Gérard responded, and his wife echoed softly.

The three of them sat talking together for the longest time until the plane finally landed at the Overwatch base in Rome. The Fixer helped them inside, where they got settled in and Gérard took his new office. The assassin then took the suspected Talon Agent down into a holding cell for later interrogation. The three of them met back in Gérard's office and said their farewells, after which, the Fixer informed the Commander of their safe arrival and the thwarted assassination attempt before leaving.

As they went to return to the jet, they passed by Amélie, who was heading out the main entrance, carrying a suitcase.

"Are you not staying here with your husband?" the Fixer asked quietly.

"Non, I will be staying in a nearby hotel," the ruby-lipped woman admitted, "truth be told, government establishments like this make me feel so... quel est le mot... _confined._ "

"Would you like any help with your luggage at all, Madame?" the helpful assassin offered. She shook her head.

"No escort necessary, but thank you for all your help today. And thank you for saving Gére's life. He is constantly in danger because of his job and I'm honestly so afraid that something may happen to him."

She frowned and her eyebrows scrunched together worriedly, her lips quivering and her golden eyes swimming with emotion. Then, she shook her head and smiled, shrugging off the worry that had been plaguing her and placing a gentle hand on the Fixer's shoulder.

"Do not worry. Everything will be alright, Fixer. We will see each other again soon, I am sure!" she told the assassin with determination in her voice as she left.

"Soon" came in the form of several months when the Rome, Italy base was bombed and reduced to rubble with Gérard still inside of it. McCree and Commander Reyes had been standing just outside of it, joking around just moments before the blast came, knocking both of them back about twenty feet and discombobulating them for a few moments before they realised what had happened.

The two of them frantically jumped into action, pulling people out of the rubble, and Reyes himself dragged Gérard out, his body burned badly and crushed by the debris.

"I... I didn't think he'd make it," McCree admitted to the Fixer as they sat in the assassin's janitor closet of a bedroom. After the incident, the cowboy didn't know who else he could turn to, and his first thought was to come see the Fixer. They had confided in each other multiple times, after all.

"I'm glad he is alright, and I'm glad you are too. I regret that this happened at all though..." the Fixer admitted, leaning against the wall and staring at the floor deep in thought. They could tell the gunslinger was upset and distressed, and they wanted to cheer them up, but were unsure how to do so.

Being under the harsh watch of Moira and the Commander, the Fixer had all but forgotten how to interact with people normally. As a consequence of this, their first thought was to sit next to McCree and remove the beak on their plague doctor mask, which left a plain black mask that looked like a something a hockey player might wear.

Then, they slightly lifted their mask up to their nose and planted their lips to his in a soft kiss. What surprised them was how much they found themselves enjoying the kiss. They knew it was wrong, but they continued, pressing their lips more ravenously against the cowboy's, their tongue exploring his mouth.

McCree was taken aback, but not offended, and quickly embraced the Fixer's peculiar and sudden means of comforting him. His hands trailed along the Fixer's armoured body until they got to their face, where the gunslinger began to slowly lift the mask and pierce the veil.

His hands were slapped downward by the Fixer instinctively, but they kept kissing, the both of them growing in ferocity as their hands wandered, McCree extremely tempted by the mystery beneath their armour; beneath their mask. He could now tell for sure that their voice was altered by the mask they wore, as he heard the sounds of natural breathing coming from them for the first time.

 _I need to know more..._ _I need to see..._ he thought desperately. He tried again to pierce the veil, but was quickly stopped by the Fixer once more.

McCree let out a low growl and shoved the Fixer away from him, standing up and pacing around the room. The Fixer, feeling self-conscious and confused, pulled their mask back down over their mouth worriedly.

"Have I... have I done something wrong?" they asked breathily, their voice and breathing tainted by the usual metallic growl.

"How could you, when you haven't done anything at all?!" McCree bellowed in the small room. It reminded the Fixer of the way he had yelled at them months before for talking badly about their self. "You don't trust me with anything... Hell, you haven't told me nothin' about your past and I've practically bared my soul to you!"

"McCree, you don't understand... I can't tell anyone who I am or what I've done, and if I told you especially, you would hate me."

"What a load o' horseshit..." the gunslinger snarled, "everyone has a choice. You're over here tellin' me that you can't. Why not?"

The Fixer hung their head guiltily and balled their fists, their eyes tearing up as they struggled with their feelings but refused to say a word.

"Alright then, I guess that's it," the cowboy muttered, grabbing his black hat off the table and walking to the door, "friends don't have secrets from each other."

"Wait," the Fixer practically begged him, "will you... come back?"

"Dunno, we'll see. But I'm gettin' mighty tired of this shit," he growled as he opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind him.

"Please come back..." the Fixer pleaded quietly after him.

Weeks later, it was reported that Gérard had made a full recovery, though he was still out of office for the time being. All the while, his faithful wife had gone to see him, aiding in his slow recovery. The Fixer had been instructed to meet Commander Reyes at the hotel where she was staying.

_"We will see each other again soon, I am sure!"_

Amélie's words echoed through the Fixer's mind and they smiled to themself, eager to see her and her husband again. The Fixer boarded the plane and it took them to the hotel, but nothing was what they expected. The hotel was swarmed with police, and the Fixer even recognised several Overwatch Agents as they bustled about gathering information from the officers and each other.

Walking down the steps of the hotel building, Commander Reyes and Strike Commander Morrison were arguing about a mission gone wrong. The Fixer strained their ears to hear them speaking, their enhancements kicking in. Reyes was being demoted and Morrison was angrily chiding him for his part in something called 'The Venice Incident.'

Reyes was arguing that the only way to destroy Talon was by fighting fire with fire. They could no longer afford to abide by the regular laws of the world when they were against a lawless enemy like Talon.

The Fixer gasped in horror, clenching their jaw and scowling behind their mask at the name of the foul organization.

"They were the ones who..." they trailed off as they heard the two men's voices raising in agitation until Morrison raised a hand and shook his head to stop them.

"Enough. I'm done talking about this, Gabriel, and I think I'm done with you. We used to be friends, but lately... I don't know what's gotten into you. If you keep down the road you're on, it's going to lead you into ruin."

"Already there, Jack," Reyes bit back at his former friend, who scoffed and walked off with his fists balled. Reyes watched him walk away, scowling at his turned back as he went to speak to a few officials. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists.

As the Fixer approached him, pretending to have just arrived, they heard him mutter, "If you can't beat 'em, join 'em."

They were taken aback. They knew that Reyes had been doing terrible things to _them_ but they didn't think he was a bad person.

 _He helped raise McCree and make him into the man he is today... so why...?_ they despaired, their footsteps growing heavier and heavier as they hesitated walking up to the Commander.

He turned suddenly and spotted them, sighing deeply before scowling and declaring, "Bad news. Amélie Lacroix has been captured by Talon... You're gonna track her down and bring her back as soon as possible."


	4. MONSTERS - PART 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blizzard owns Overwatch, but I own this story! :P Hope all of you out there enjoy this and that it can be a nice little distraction from the world around us right now. Stay safe out there! :)

"You're gonna track down Amélie Lacroix, and you're going to do it quickly and quietly," Commander Reyes declared as he scowled at the assassin. The Fixer scowled back at him from behind their mask, gritting their teeth. Just a moment before, they had heard Reyes talk about joining Talon, an organization that had haunted the assassin since before they were part of Overwatch.

Despite hearing what he said, the Fixer knew they couldn't afford to waste time on the Commander, as Amélie's life was on the line.

"What happened?" the Fixer demanded softly, the words pouring out of their mouth before they realised what they were saying.

"Gérard's life has been at threat for awhile and Talon has been ruthless and unyielding in their attempts to kill him. What we never expected was for them to capture his wife. The maid heard her scream as she was coming to clean the room and immediately opened the door to see a Talon Assassin of some sort, who had knocked Amélie out cold and was in the process of moving the body."

Reyes crossed his arms and scowled more deeply, his eyes averting to the ground.

"They didn't want to leave any witnesses, so they chased the maid and killed her in the hall before collecting Amélie and leaving through the window. What a fucking mess this is..."

"Do you have a dossier on the incident? And may I take a look at the room she was staying in?" the Fixer requested.

"Pick up the file from me tonight when you return to the home base in Grand Mesa. As for the room, you have access. Go now and investigate it," Reyes ordered, whirling around and stalking off.

"Actually," the Fixer said as he began to walk away, causing him to stop and turn around, "I won't be coming back to Grand Mesa until I find her. I begin my search immediately."

Reyes stared at the assassin in suspicion, his eyes narrowing at them, but he simply shrugged.

"Very well, I'll stay a bit longer and get the file to you tonight. Amélie Lacroix is our top priority, and you are the only one who can get the job done so quickly. Not even Shimada is as fast as you," he said bitterly.

The Fixer nodded and headed to the room. As they walked into the hallway, they immediately sensed that a struggle had taken place there. The body of the maid was being carried by the medical examiners and the Fixer stopped them with a raised hand, showing them their clearance badge.

"Show me," they demanded.

The two of them gently lay the maid's body down and opened the bag. The maid's eyes and mouth were wide open in horror and blood was slaked across the sides and undersides of her body and soaked into their hair. She had a deep gash across her neck, and a diagonal slice across her chest. 

One of the medical examiner's raised her arms up and showed that she had one deep diagonal slice going in the opposite direction of the one on her chest.

"A defensive wound, indicating she tried to shield herself from an attack..." the Fixer mused.

"Correct. The attacker used a very long blade that was thin, but long and wide, and easy to maneuver," the one female examiner informed them.

"Do you know of any such blade that could do this?"

"I'm not sure just yet. I'll have to take a look at the latest Talon info and see if any of their agents carries a weapon like this. Some of the Agents from the Venice Incident may have seen something like this. Your best bet would be to speak with one of them."

"Do one of you have an extra camera I can borrow? I need you to take pictures of the body again, just on these wounds, since they were the only ones," the Fixer-Upper commanded. The two examiners quickly did as they were instructed and handed over the camera. "Thank you."

The Fixer strode into Amélie's bedroom and looked around. A few police were still inside the room, talking and jotting down notes. The Fixer held up their badge in front of them.

"I need everyone present to clear the room for about ten minutes and give me some time to assess the scene," they demanded. The room froze and the officers that remained, sensing there was something off about the strangely-clothed agent, quickly left.

The Fixer let out a long sigh and locked the door before removing their helmet and gloves, shaking out their hair, and taking in a deep breath. With their heightened senses, they could smell the fear and adrenaline and instantly understood what had transpired:

Amélie Lacroix had been reading on her bed, a glass of red wine on the table next to her, when a gust of air had blown the window open, or so she thought. She moved to close it and realised that the latch was broken. It was in that moment that the assassin leapt down from their spot on the ceiling in the corner of room and charged at her.

Lacroix had grabbed her book and used it as a shield to prevent being struck on the head. From there, she grabbed the wine she had been drinking and threw it at the assassin, who wasn't fazed in the least bit.

 _Perhaps... they were armoured and she threw the wine at them because she thought them to be an Omnic!_ the Fixer hypothesized as their train of thought was interrupted. They refocused themselves and took another deep breath in, letting their mouth fall open to taste the air around them.

When the wine was thrown, the assassin had used their blade to block the spill before shaking off the blood in a quick, sideways motion, causing the red wine to spray in a diagonal pattern along the rug. From there, the assassin struck again, this time, aiming true and knocking Amélie out cold. The Fixer came back to the present, knowing there was nothing more they could see there. They already knew what happened next with the maid.

Even so, something was bugging them about the blade that the Talon Agent carried. The angles in which the Agent had struck the maid would have made blade handling awkward, for lack of a better term, so the Fixer immediately ruled out almost every handled blade. The only problem was that no other blade they could think of seemed to match the size of the gashes in the maid or the angles and length of the cuts.

The Fixer finally sighed and stood up straight, balling their fists angrily as they were determined now, more than ever to find Amélie's assailant.

"I'll get revenge for all three of us..." the Fixer hissed as they left the room, eyeing the broken wine glass and tattered book for a moment longer before departing. They walked back outside and approached the Commander once more.

"There has been a change of plans Commander. I need more intel, unless you can give it to me. I need to speak to the agents involved in the Venice Incident because they may have seen the type of agent involved in this attack," the Fixer declared, standing at attention. To their surprise, Commander Reyes seemed to look somewhat confused. He clutched his head in pain and winced.

"Alright, well you're looking at one, speak quickly," he barked.

"I wanted to know if you had seen a certain Talon Agent while you were there. They would have looked like an Omnic and been fast and stealthy, carrying a long, thin, wide blade of some sort that didn't have a handle. Did you see anything like that?"

The Commander seemed to freeze in place and he gritted his teeth and stared at the ground as if in thought. Then, he whirled around and started walking away, still wincing and clutching his head.

"I don't have time for this shit. Go see Shimada, Moira, and McCree if you want answers! I have bigger fish to fry," he hissed.

The Fixer stared after him worriedly, wondering what was wrong with him.

 _If he has brain injury, maybe that explains why he's been acting so erratically. It sounds like whatever happened with the Venice Incident, it had a big impact on Overwatch if the Strike Commander himself came down to speak with him..._ they pondered. Then, they arranged a flight back to the home base in Grand Mesa and settled in, making sure to eat something before getting to work. 

They quickly headed to the laboratory and spoke with Moira, who shook her head quickly and gave a small shrug.

"I do apologise, Fixer, but I was more focused on keeping those three idiots alive. I wasn't paying too close attention to the Talon Agents," they confessed. The Fixer nodded and thanked Moira for her time before searching the base for McCree. 

_Not only do I need to ask him about the Talon Agent that could be involved, but I need to tell him about Reyes..._ they thought. They cringed as they pondered the multiple possible outcomes of the talk with him, none of them good. They arrived at his room and knocked on the door softly.

The sound of quiet laughter answered the Fixer back as they stood there waiting and finally, the door opened and they were met by a young, bright-eyed Overwatch Agent, who cleared her throat awkwardly and murmured a meek and scared, "e-excuse me," as she made her way out of the room past them and down the hall. 

"Oh it's you," McCree said in shock, his mouth slightly agape as he stood inside him room shirtless, glistening with sweat with a pair of jeans on that were half done up.

"Seems like you're extremely busy again. Much too busy to see me, I take it. I'll leave you be," the Fixer said, a pang of anger striking their heart in a way they never thought possible.

"Fixer, wait... What did you come here for?" McCree pleaded, gently grabbing the lanky assassin's arm. The Fixer yanked their arm out of his grasp and crossed them.

"I don't think you'll want to hear this, but... I need to tell you anyways." They hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath to calm themself. 

_How the fuck am I going to tell him about the Commander?_ they wondered nervously.

"Hmm... sounds like you have some bad news for me. Well, whatever it is," he paused as he lit up a cigar and put it to his lips, taking a deep drag of it, "I can handle it." He flipped his wrist, snapping the lighter shut, and thrust it back into the pocket of his jeans.

"Alright then..." The Fixer took a deep breath and crossed their arms. "There's something... really _really_ wrong with the Commander..."

McCree paused for a moment before throwing his head back and letting out a booming laugh, "Oh, Fixer... don't you know that Morrison always has a stick up his ass the size o' Texas?"

"Not... Morrison..." the Fixer corrected him, shifting in place awkwardly. The boyish grin on McCree's face slowly disappeared and was replaced with a worried scowl.

"Whatd'ya mean?" he demanded.

"Lately I've noticed things about him. He's seemed in pain, like he's always got a headache, and he's forgetting things. Have you noticed anything?"

McCree stared at the ground as he realised that the Fixer was right. He had gone to speak with Reyes in his office multiple times recently and Reyes had gotten the date wrong, or had called him by other names.

When questioned about it, he always responded with the same thing: "Ah hell, I've gone and overworked myself yet again. You know how I'm always doing that shit... Anyways, I'm due for a cat nap. Head's killing me!"

Then, he'd proceed to walk out the door and head to his sleeping quarters. McCree shook his head in disbelief. This was the man that practically raised him and dealt with his bullshit when he was a teen when his own father spent years of his life abusing him.

"Nah Fixer, you got it all wrong, here. He's just been overworking himself, is all. The man's been... under a lot of stress lately with the Venice Incident and all," he defended the wayward man.

"What happened in Venice, McCree?" the Fixer asked quietly. The Cowboy shrugged, but even he couldn't defend Gabriel Reyes' actions on that night as he recapped what had happened.

"There was a man. Antonio. He was the leader of Talon at the time. Our mission was to capture him and bring him in for questioning quietly, but... the Commander had other ideas. He... executed him instead," McCree admitted.

"And... tell me, McCree. Is it like Reyes to not follow orders like this?"

"Well, I mean he's always been a bit of a rule breaker and—"

"But this is a bit more than just that, isn't it? And did anything happen as a direct result to that? Did anything happen with Talon?" the Fixer pressed him, trying to see if there really was indeed a connection with Commander Reyes and Talon, after all.

McCree stared in disbelief for a moment. Just after that, Akande Ogundimu killed his mentor, took the name of "Doomfist," and stepped up to fill the void in Talon, but that had just been a coincidence, hadn't it? He shook his head, refusing to accept the possibility and let out a low chuckle before taking a long drag of his cigar.

"I reckon, I don't have to tell you a damn thing. Besides, how am I supposed to trust someone who don't put their trust in me?"

The Fixer slowly dropped their arms, their head drooping slightly with the motion, and balled their hands into fists.

"I guess... you can't," they admitted, "but friends warn their friends when there is danger, and I think... I think Commander Reyes might be defecting to Talon."

McCree stared at the ground for a moment, putting two and two together, but he couldn't accept what the lonely assassin was trying to tell him.

"What a bunch of bullshit. I'm tired of hearing it, Fixer... You... you can't have your way with me so you decide to try to destroy my life? Is that it?!" he yowled, gritting his teeth as he stamped out the cigar on the nearby table.

The Fixer recoiled slightly, their lips quivering behind their mask. They took a step backwards to keep from falling over as their legs trembled anxiously.

"Ha... Reyes was right about you, Fixer. You're a fuckin' sociopath. We're done, now get out."

The deadly assassin, the Fixer-Upper, froze there in silence, staring at the gunslinger with a pained expression on their face that couldn't be seen through the dark, steel hockey mask they sported.

Tears trailed down their face and there was heartbreak in their voice, discernable even amongst the metallic tones of the voice changer, as they declared, "Friends don't give up on friends. I came because I wanted to protect you, and also because I needed your help. Amélie Lacroix has been kidnapped by Talon. It's my job to bring her home safely. I'll do that with or without your help."

As they opened the door and made to exit the room, they stopped and added, "I really... I thought you knew me better than this, McCree. If you really think I'm some insane motherfucker, why don't you check it out for yourself?"

McCree punched the wall hard with his left hand before withdrawing it painfully and muttering, "Son of a bitch!"

He then sighed as he nursed his hand and glowered after the Fixer knowingly.

 _What if they're right about him?_ they wondered as they put on their hat and mission clothes and stormed out the door.

Meanwhile, the Fixer headed over to Genji's quarters, taking a few shuddering breaths to calm themself before lightly tapping on the door.

"Enter," Genji said calmly. The Fixer had truthfully never really interacted much with Genji before, other than passing him in the hallway. They found the Cyborg Ninja to be somewhat cold and distant, as well as mildly unsettling with the near-constant negative energy he gave off.

The Fixer opened the door slowly and walked in to see Genji hooked up to a large machine that appeared to be some sort of charging port. They stared in awe at the red and white wires that sprouted from the Blackwatch Agent's back as he sat there, eyes closed, waiting for his cybernetic limbs to fully recover.

Suddenly, his eyes flashed open, a glowing crimson colour, his face hidden by his mask as he growled, "What do you want?"

"You were there in Venice, were you not? When Commander Reyes killed Antonio?" the Fixer demanded.

"I was, so I will ask you once more: what do you want?"

"I want answers. Amélie Lacroix was kidnapped by Talon. It seemed to be by an agent with newer technology. Since the Venice Incident was more recent, I was hoping one of you may have seen it, or could at least identify it with your level of intel. Plus, you are a swordsman. I was hoping you may be able to identify what weapon killed the maid. It's the biggest clue I have into finding Mrs. Lacroix."

There was silence for a moment as the cyborg stared at them, but eventually he sighed and said, "Very well... continue."

The Fixer produced the small digital camera from their pocket and showed Genji the pictures of the wounds on the maid's body.

"They were made with a very long slender blade that was wide but thin, almost paper thin. And I've thought about the swings as well as the spatter it made when shaking the blood off the blade, and I concluded that whatever the blade was, it didn't have a handle on it. Or at least it wasn't swung by the handle."

"That is because they were attached to the arms of the Agent," Genji spoke up, his brows furrowing. "This is the work of a Talon Assassin. They are a lot like you and I. Monsters. Abominations altered and created for destruction. Their bodies are mostly metal, and they attack swiftly and silently, only making sound when they slice you up."

The Fixer stared at Genji thoughtfully. Out of everyone they had spoken to, Genji was the only one who seemed to know who they were.

"Monsters?" they demanded curiously.

Genji ripped the cords protruding out of his back from the machine and stood up, crossing his arms impatiently.

"I know what you are; how they altered your DNA to make you into a superhuman assassin," he declared. There was silence for several moments.

"Go on, then. Tell me how wrong I am," he goaded them. The Fixer let out a low sigh and slowly removed their mask and helmet, their golden glowing irises a beacon of light that were lost in Genji's angry crimson eyes. The Fixer's long, black hair tumbled to the middle of their back, free from the confinement of the helmet portion of their disguise.

"I knew it, but I wasn't expecting you to look so Human. Doesn't matter because you are a monster, just as I am."

"Please..." the Fixer begged, the metallic tones now gone from their voice, "don't let anyone else know who or what I am."

"Very well... I will keep your dark secret, if you will keep mine," he agreed. The Fixer stared at him, mouth agape and eyes squinted in confusion. "I am always in pain."

Genji pointed to the cybernetic parts of his body with his remaining Human hand and then let it fall as he spoke softly.

"I have pain throughout my body, but it isn't real. This pain is known as Phantom Pain. It is the feeling that my physical limb is still there. Only, because something is in place of it that isn't mine, it sears the nerves like fire. The metal jolts my nerves that only still exist there because my brain says so."

"Dr. Ziegler has told me it is because my brain still cannot distinguish my cybernetic limbs as part of my body. Moira told me she could take the pain away if I let her try a few small experiments."

He scoffed and shrugged before continuing, "I do not trust Moira, but Dr. Ziegler... Angela... has been a good friend to me. She has come up with a new cybernetic body for me. It will not be a surgery so much as a... transfer, and the pain will subside. She promised me this. Morrison said he would allow it, if I used it in action on an upcoming mission to gain intel from a high-ranking Talon member and track down Doomfist."

"That has been my entire time here at Blackwatch. Overwatch is nicer, but not so different... I was only saved from death and disability at the hands of my brother by Overwatch in exchange for my abilities. If I had refused to help them, they would have left me crippled in the hospital that day. Even now, I am tethered to the organization. I do not know who I am anymore and the only thing I really want is to see my brother die or suffer a crueler fate than the one he inflicted upon me."

"I get my new body tomorrow and go on the mission with Dr. Ziegler, Winston, and Tracer the following day. After that, I will join you in your pursuit of the assassin that took Lacroix. Until then, start by gaining Intel on Talon's active bases. She will most likely be held at one of them. Perhaps, even somewhere nearby."

The Fixer nodded, thankful for his sound advice.

"Thank you, Genji, your help would be most appreciated," they said as they put their helmet back on and clipped the mask to it, turned and started towards the door. Then, they paused as they gripped the doorknob, and turned around. "Also, the two of us may be monsters, but is there any hope for us to live in this world of Humans? To coexist? To be happy?"

Genji bowed his head thoughtfully, the piercing gaze fleeing from his face, replaced by a melancholy, empathetic stare as he lifted his head back up to face theirs.

"None that I have found." 

The Fixer's lips quivered beneath their mask and they nodded sternly before whirling around and leaving the room.

McCree watched The Fixer walk out of Genji's room and head back to their small room. He let out a low growl and barged in on Genji reconnecting the wires along his neck and back to the machine.

"What is it, McCree? You always enter without knocking..." he growled, yanking the wires back out of the machine and standing up, arms crossed.

"I saw the Fixer come in here... What did they talk with you about?" the cowboy demanded. Genji's eyes narrowed at him and he gave a small shrug.

"If they did not tell you, then the information is confidential. What is it to you, anyways?"

"I'm investigatin' a lil somethin'... Did they say anything about Reyes?"

"Commander Reyes?" the gunslinger nodded, eyes fierce and determined. "No, why?"

McCree sighed and leaned his back against the closed door, running a hand across his face. He wasn't sure whether he could really trust Genji or not. They had trained together, sparred together, and spoken with each other, but there was always this rage inside of Genji that threatened to take him over.

 _Whether that's the case or not, we're still brothers in arms here... He's a friend._ McCree chided himself quietly.

"Alright, Genji, you and me need to have a little talk," he murmured, sitting down and making himself comfortable. Genji did the same and McCree shared the entire story about how he came to befriend the Fixer and get to know them.

As soon as the gunslinger had finished talking about Reyes and what the Fixer was saying about him, Genji nodded in understanding.

"Something is not right here, McCree... I think it would be best if you joined us on our mission. We are tracking down Amélie Lacroix and bringing her back to Overwatch."


End file.
